


Demented to A Point of Faux Love

by astronomical_astronaut



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Amnesia!Lance, Dark Hunk (Voltron), Dark Keith (Voltron), Dark Lance (Voltron), Dark Pidge | Katie Holt, Dark Shiro (Voltron), Demons, Engineer!Matt, F/F, F/M, Gen, Ghosts, M/M, Mild Gore, Multi, Police penpushers!hunk and pidge, Spirits, brief doctor!Shiro, demon!Lance, demon!allura, like a kid is missing a hand but that's about it, multiple personality!Lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2020-04-06 07:39:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19058200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astronomical_astronaut/pseuds/astronomical_astronaut
Summary: Basically some one-shots that I’ll build on later if they get a good enough positive reaction. All of these will be Lance-centric.Includes as of now:— Chapter 1: Demon + Mage + Police Officer AU— Chapter 2: Amnesia + Spirits AU— Chapter 3: Multiple Personalities + Alternate Reality AU





	1. Unruly

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, Lance can admit, working at a police station _seems_ pretty cool, and it probably is. You know? Finding and fighting bad guys, putting thugs in jail, the works.
> 
> But not for Lance, ho boy, even though the Garrison Police Training Academy (GPTA) facility gave him one of the _very best_ recommendations about his skill, ingenuity and really overall _usefulness_ out in the field, he was _still _working a damn desk job.__  
>  _Fuck._  
>  _Lance made a deal with the Devil and look where it got him._  
>     
>  _(Seriously, fuck you Zarkon, you should have known better than hiring literally one of the strongest and most fearsome warriors in Hell-history)_

“Lance, how the hell,” Pidge rubs her eyes behind her glasses with both hands as she takes a deep breath, then looks at Lance again, who was lounging on his chair with his arms behind his neck and feet rested on the table next to the table next to his keyboard, “do you finish your work _so_ early, and you did the overtime paperwork and filing in the normal work hours?!” 

 

  
_I don’t know, maybe because I’m an immortal being with powers you can only imagine trapped in this fucking glorified cement_ **_box_ ** _?_

 

  
“Listen, dude.” Lance kicks his feet off as he takes out his headphones from his bag, and he gives Pidge a level stare and his ‘signature’ Lance cat-like grin. “I’m just anxious to go home like anyone else, also I have super long fingers that move super fast so there’s that.” 

 

  
The glasses wearing girl just _hmphed_ and turned back to her computer and started typing, she fumbled a little when she tried to recreate Lance’s uncanny speed.  


 

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

 

  
“Fuck you.” She mumbled as the glare of the screen reflected in those glasses of hers, Lance knew she didn’t need them to actually see, but he never really asked, it wasn’t any of his business or his place to even mention anything about it. 

 

  
“Sorry Pidgster, you’re a little young for me.” Lance flicks through his playlist and clicks the song ‘Howling At The Moon’ by Phantogram, and hits up the volume button at the same time Pidge lets out an undignified squawk. 

 

  
“Dude! Gross!” 

 

  
She chucked a half eaten apple which he easily dodged. 

 

  
“Hey, don’t throw food around the workplace Pidge, we’ve talked about this.” 

 

  
A voice comes up behind Lance the same time a warm hand lands on his shoulder, Lance grins and tips his head back to look up at Hunk’s goddamn ray-of-sunshine-like face. 

 

  
Because even demons are tamed by this kind of purity. 

 

  
“Hunky, Pidge is being mean to me!” 

 

  
“I was complimenting you on your work standard you ass!” 

 

  
Lance just blows a raspberry and pushes up from his chair and leans backwards accompanied by a myriad of pops that made Pidge and Hunk shiver, Lance just grinned and kept pushing his shoulders to touch the small of his back as he kept curling, his hands latched to his ankles and he twisted his head back to give Pidge and Hunk an unsettling grin, the two just looked at his face in silent horror. 

 

  
Lance just subtly took a deep breath and a slightly glazed look entered his eye. 

 

  
_That’s the stuff…fear and confusion always taste the best._

 

  
“ _MCCLAIN_!” 

 

  
The loud and offending shout from the commanding officer made him pout, he made a show to slowly let go of his ankles, but instead of standing up straight, he just flattens his palms on the wooden floor behind his head and lifts both legs up at the same time to balance in a precarious handstand that made him look like he was about to fall any minute. 

 

  
Hunk stepped forward to steady him when Lance wobbled but he just shook his head, Lance turned around on his hands and grinned at Iverson, who was looking at him with his one angry eye. 

 

  
“What have I told you about slacking off!?” 

 

  
_Jeez, this guy has seen too many military movies, trying to act like some official, the real one’s are much nicer and resent the stereotype of angry screaming beast that Hollywood pegged them with._

 

  
With that deep and confusingly insightful thought of Lance’s conscious, he put all his weight on his left hand as he freed the other one to move his headphones with his right, he didn’t move after that and looked up expectantly at Iverson. 

 

  
“Sir, if you mean by ‘slacking off’,” he used his right hand for quotations marks as he gave a deadpan stare, “as in, finishing all of today’s paperwork, organizing our informants’ information _and_ ordering your favorite pizza with coffee for everyone, on _me_ I might add because everyone’s been working themselves to the bone since it’s almost the Christmas holiday and everyone wants to go home. Then yes, I have been slacking off immensely, I wouldn’t have nothing to do you know if you just _let me on the field_ .” 

 

  
Lance stayed upside down for his rant and he didn’t pause to take a breath (not that he actually needed oxygen or glucose to function by any means) but he knew that his patience was wearing thin, and if Lance didn’t get himself calm soon, he might say something he regrets. 

 

  
He wasn’t called Knife for nothing, his words _hurt_ . Physically and emotionally, he’d like to avoid destroying someone’s self-worth and ambitions thanks. 

 

  
_Not that it isn’t fun, but it would be inconvenient, so, you’re lucky old man._

 

  
“Shut up! I don’t–! Wait, meat lovers with extra cheese?” 

 

  
The sudden question made Lance flip on his axis, landing on his two feet without a hint of dizziness or fatigue and made a finger gun under his chin as he looked at Iverson. 

 

  
“Deep-pan and piping hot, sir.” 

 

  
The man in question just sighed slightly dreamily but then looked at Lance and gave him a pointed glare paired with a finger. 

 

  
“Don’t let me catch you doing nothing again.” 

 

  
Lance just rolled his eyes when Iverson just went to his office and shut the door, the shutters shook with force until they stilled. Lance sat back down with a slouch as he heard both Hunk and Pidge give sighs of relief. Lance honestly couldn’t care less, he saw the shutters in Iverson’s office drop harshly from a very ungrateful tug, his beady eye on Lance the whole time.

 

 _Whatever_.

 

The guy was probably going to jack off to the thought of shouting at the newbies later, the sick fuck probably got hard at terrified faces.

 

Lance could relate.

 

After all, demons were _known_ for their...unsavoury kinks.

 

“Dude, I thought for sure he was gonna fire you, how do you have the LAPD’s commanding officer wrapped around your finger?”

 

  
“A way to a man’s heart is through his stomach Hunk, I thought you knew this.” 

 

  
Lance just plopped on his headphones again and ignored what his two coworkers were talking about, scrolling through his playlist when sudden and hurried footsteps were outside the station. Lance stayed still, they were too far to alert his office too without seeming unsuspicious. 

 

  
After a few minutes there was a sudden bang of the door slamming against the brick wall, everyone but Lance flinched and a poor officer was almost hit in the face by the door but was yanked back in time. 

 

  
“Help! Please! I need–!” 

 

  
The sudden shout from a tall, dark-skinned woman with tangled white hair was cut short from her staggering forward, and as she did and unmistakable smell hit Lance like a slap in the face.  


 

Blood.

 

  
_Demon’s_ blood. 

 

  
Thankfully, the blood was invisible to human eyes and scentless (to them at least), it’s as if it didn’t exist on this realm, but Lance could see, he could see the obsidian sludge in her achingly familiar cloud-like hair.

 

  
He stood up and pushed passed people rushing forward to hold her steady, and as Lance got closer, he used his secondary vision, the one that lets him see the aura and rank of the demon or person in front of him.

 

  
A vibrant blue. 

 

  
Royalty. 

 

  
“Let me see.” 

 

  
The woman’s face looked up at him and both their eyes widened, before Lance almost cried in alarm, the woman draped himself over Lance and he held her steady. 

 

  
“Y-you must be Laurielaneracruxialta?”

 

 

Someone behind him said ‘Bless you’, which, _rude._

 

  
She said shakily as she loosened her vice grip on his neck and she scanned over his face, then her eyes drifter over to his ears. 

 

  
“What’s wrong with your ears?” 

 

  
Lance just rolled his eyes and steadied the woman who was the spitting image of Reanna, queen of the underworld, but this girl wasn’t giving the same aura, so it definitely wasn’t her. 

 

  
Her daughter perhaps? 

 

  
_But that would mean…_

 

  
“Its alright guys, this is my cousin from London, she’s a bit,” Lance waved a finger next to his head, “let’s go and I’ll take you home okay? I’m done with work anyway.” 

 

  
Lance turned around as the group of people dispersed, he gave Iverson’s office window a pointed look and flipped the bird, he could hear a few snickers as he turned away with a huff. 

 

  
Just as Lance left the door, a man was standing there with an extra large pizza and next to him was a nice looking lady with a couple of tray table of everyone’s preferences with their names labeled on each cup, a few for Pidge and her late nights. 

 

  
“They’re waiting inside for you.” He tells them dismissively and waves them off and walks into the cool night of the suburbs. The sky was a full moon, that meant strapping himself to the table again, Lance sighed and he turned to Reann– her _daughter_ and gave a charming smile. 

 

  
“How may I assist you Princess?” Lance walks over to his beloved motorbike that he named Azul and gives the one helmet to the Princess, who took it gingerly, it’s not like either of them actually needed it but still, Lance’s mama taught him to be gentlemanly, and he listens to whatever him mama told him, granted she didn’t tell him to sell his soul to Hell and fuck around and feed on emotions and terrorise people and become one of the best mages and sorcerers and warriors of the Underworld Dimension, oh and how could he forget, he also likes _guys_ too. 

 

  
His mom would probably hate that the most out of everything that happened ever since he left home. 

 

  
Anyway.

 

 

Princess.

 

 

Demon blood.

 

 

*insert long and suffered internal sigh*  


 

Real life.

 

 

Jesus (ha) he was too old for this.

 

**~**

 

Lance was leaning on the bathroom tiled wall as he watch Allura wash all the blood from her hair.

 

 

“Who’s is it?”

 

 

“My knight’s.”

 

 

Lance gave a whistle.

 

 

“Was he a dick?”

 

 

“You have _no_ idea.”

 

 

“What was their name?”

 

 

Allura lifted her head from the sink and wiped the blood off her face with her hands, only smearing it more, but her slightly haunted face in the mirror showed how little she cared.

 

 

Lance took a deep breath, the princess was young, he could see it in the way she seemed inexperienced and wondering, not truly grasping the meaning of what reality had to offer.

 

 

Lance could relate, by _god_ (ha) he could relate.

 

 

But now she was in his care, and no matter the situation she was his charge and was to be protected, ironically by her _own_ demons.

 

 

As if Lance didn’t have enough.

 

 

“...Haxus.”

 

 

Lance takes it all back no way is he going to justify a death of that mongrel.

 

 

“Oh thank the devil.”

 

 

Allura spun and looked at Lance incredulously, there was a slight shine of anger in her eyes, but Lance had to say something.

 

 

“You saved more lives with his death, I doubt they told you what he did in his free time?”

 

 

Allura doesn’t say anything but shock was evident on her face, and her mouth opens, a retort dies in her lips.

 

 

“What...did he do?”

 

 

She looked like she didn’t really want to know.

 

 

And fucking Hell Lance wishes he didn’t know, but what he also did know was that if he didn’t know he’d want to find out and he’d be stuck in this loop because that’s how ignorance works.

 

 

Anyway.

 

 

“He was the reason there were slaves in the castle, you honestly didn’t believe your mother of father would have condone them do you?”

 

 

Her eyes widened.

 

 

“Slaves?!”

 

 

“Yes,” Lance nodded, “I only found out when I had just left, I had lost too much power to go back and retaliate, my magic takes much longer to regenerate in the mortal world, so for now I am stuck here until someone helps me gather my power.

 

 

“And,” Lance comes closer to Allura, picking up a fluffy towel piled on the shelf next to the shower and wiped her face with it, her eyes burning on his skin, “the only person who can do that right now, is you.”

 

 

**~**

 

 

Lance had finally gotten Allura to at least rest, he’ll ask questions tomorrow, he could see how much the day’s events had tired the princess.

 

 

Lance deserved a medal, seriously.

 

 

Corpses of rare beasts were rarely any consolation to his lack of appreciation.

 

 

He was sitting on the couch, Allura curled up into his side—she was just like a kitten when she gets sleepy—and her breath flutters over Lance’s Cookie Monster pyjamas, his hand was petting soothing circles on her head, making her _almost_ purr.

 

 

Almost.

 

 

Lance sighs as he lets his head fall on the back of the couch on the nape of his neck.

 

 

He wishes he took his phone from the coffee table, he could see his headphones still plugged in.

 

 

After a few more hours (read: seconds) Lance’s will breaks and he crawls away from Allura, chucking a pillow at her when she started feeling around for his body, that seemed to satisfy her, she mumbled slightly as she dug her nails in the fabric of his least favorite pillow.

 

 

“Fall of Altea…”

 

 

Lance’s ears perk up  and his eyes widened, Altea was the name of one of the dimensions of the Underworld, the one where he was... _employed_.

 

 

 _*_ cough _* enslaved *_ cough _*_

 

 

But as Lance got his phone and put on his headphones, he walked over to his large desk, he pressed shuffle,

 

 

The beginning of ‘Lane Boy’ by Twenty One Pilots stayed and Lance grinned.

 

 

He had the _best_ music taste _ever_.

 

 

He opened up a sketch book and started to draw with his pencil, tongue sticking out the corner childishly as he had an image in mind, and went through the routine of another sleepless night.

 

 

He put the shackles around his wrists and ankles, lined with lead and sheep’s blood, Lance almost forgot those, _that_ would have been dangerous.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Lance saw the first rays of light shine from the city landscape at his left, the slight top of the sun peeked out gold and orange into the dim living room.

 

 

He groaned, he did _not_ sleep in a comfortable position.

 

 

Fuck insomnia.

 

 

Seriously.

 

 

You’d think demons wouldn’t have to deal with that shit.

 

 

Well, at least Lance sketched some really nice portraits of Allura sleeping (not in a creepy way mind you) and a bunch of still-life pictures in lead.

 

 

“This is gorgeous.”

 

 

Lance moved his head sleepily over to where Allura was standing, holding his sketchbook delicately, staring at the picture of herself.

 

 

“Yours if you want it,” Lance said as he got up, “pancakes?”

 

 

“Yes please.”

 

 

Lance jumped, literally _jumped_ into the floor down to where the kitchen was, cutting the shackles he had connected onto the arms of the couch, phasing through it like it was a goddamn Portal.

 

 

Hey, Lance can be fucking extra, that’s his _thing_.

 

 

**~**

 

 

When Allura got over the shock of literally seeing Lance jump through the floor, she went down the stairs—like a _normal_ person—

 

 

“Hey we are anything but normal!”

 

 

“There was no need to give me such a fright early in the morning!”

 

 

The two demons were sitting at the kitchen island, each with a mound of fluffy pancakes spiked with bat blood.

 

 

Stop with those judgy looks.

 

 

To demons, bat blood is _literally like syrup_.

 

 

“So, you going to tell me how you got here or what?”

 

 

Suddenly the mood turned somber quick, Lance almost regretted bringing it up.

 

 

Almost.

 

 

“Princess, I need to know exactly what’s going on down there, I’m the _royal mage_ , if something is wrong then I need to be there.”

 

 

She still looked reluctant, her hands were curling around the mug of hot chocolate (she didn’t like coffee, demons don’t like bitter things, Lance doesn’t count) and just bit her lip before taking a steadying breath. The light was creating a soft halo around her stark white hair, and to Lance at that very moment thought how _tired_ she looked, how sad and miserable her quintessence was.

 

 

Mostly, he looked at how young she was.

 

 

She had to be around four centuries, max.

 

 

Lance on the other hand...well, that’s a story for another time.

 

 

He just sighed again when the princess just stared into space, he stirred some magic dust from the princess’ aura and made patterns in the air, shimmering blue turned into mini lions, then reshaped into a butterfly and so on.

 

 

“Tell me your name at least.”

 

 

The girl startled, she looked up at Lance through her lashes, “You don’t know? I thought everyone knew.”

 

 

Lance just smiled and changed the blue smoke into Iverson’s ugly mug, “I’ve been...absent for a while sweetheart.”

 

 

He didn’t look at the princess, he just kept changing and reshaping the blue smoke, eventually making a heart and making it pulse and beat sans the sound.

 

 

“Allura.”

 

 

The heart kept beating, even after Lance lowered his arms and faced Allura, turning his whole body to look at her, really _look_ at her.

 

 

He held out a hand, “Well, Allura it’s nice to meet you.”

 

 

Allura looked up from that eye catching spot on the table, looking at Lance’s outstretched hand and then his face, she smiled as she took it, moving their hands in that polite way she was taught when she was a child.

 

 

“As it is you, Laurielaneracruxialta.”

 

 

“Please, call me Lance.”


	2. Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Cat.”
> 
> The person stopped and looked at him.
> 
> “Cat,” he said, like it was supposed to mean something, _“cat.”_
> 
> “…cat?”
> 
> He knew it was important, or maybe it wasn’t, and it was just all his very tired mind could focus on.
> 
> “CAT!”
> 
> “…right, I’m…I’m Matt.”

 

When he woke up it was with a jolt. Like when you feel like your falling and your body makes you wake up in a panic.

 

He smelled earth and dirt, and the air was humid and saturated with water, making it hard to breathe. Sitting up, he looked around, thick ferns reached way above his head, blocking much of the Sun.

 

He blinked.

 

He saw his legs, he saw his bare feet, scratched up and covered in spots of dried blood. Legs clad in what could only be classified as rags, they must have been something resembling hospital scrubs at one point. He sat up and lifted his hands, looking at broken, dirt caked nails. His skin looked dry and bruised.

 

Hand-shaped bruises on his wrists––

 

“Oh my god…”

 

He flinched, looking to his left, through tall, lush green grass and flora, he could see the figure of someone––he couldn’t tell their gender since they were half hidden behind the forest line. He saw that they were in some sport gear, a hiking stick poking out of the bush.

 

He tried to form words.

 

“H–Help…please I––!”

 

His throat ached and he almost coughed up a lung, he pushed his face in the cold soil, his eyes watering from the strain in his chest and throat, a pain in his temple, colours meant nothing and swirled, making him squint to try and make sense of what he was seeing.

 

_ “–ance!” _

 

He gasped and a cold hand clasped his shoulder––

 

And suddenly all the pain was gone, and he just stared at an ant making a valiant journey through the disturbed dirt.

 

“Hey, can you hear me? I’m a part-time nurse I–I can help! Can you understand me?”

 

His eyes wandered to the person, a hiking stick was clasped in the person’s––man, that voice was at least cisgender male, but he’ll ask first, if his throat complied any time soon––right hand, as if they were grasping onto some semblance of reality.

 

They had light skin, lighter than his and their eyes were a rich amber––

 

Whatever this person wanted to see in his eyes seems to have been good, because they smiled, and he got shiny, straight and perfectly white teeth as a reward.

 

He didn’t say anything, just kept looking at this person, they were of average build, looked a little thicker than he did but not unfit, features were proportional and handsome.

 

They looked very kind.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

His name?

 

He doesn’t know.

 

Why doesn’t he  _ know? _

 

He won’t try to speak again but he looked at this person, hoped that they could see what was in his eyes.

 

(He doesn’t even know the colour of his eyes.)

 

( _ Why _ .)

 

“…Okay, can you walk?”

 

He didn’t say anything.

 

“…Do you know what I’m saying? Or am I speaking gibberish to you right now?”

 

He blinked twice.

 

The Sun is a little lower now so everything was a little brighter and bathed in gold, the person was becoming nothing more than a silhouette with a voice, making him look down at his hands again.

 

He felt the person look at his hands as well, heard them inhale sharply when they saw the bruises.

 

(His lower half felt kind of wet now that he thinks about it.)

 

“Wh–What the…oh my god this is bad, this is really…”

 

He saw that this person was freaking out a little bit, he could sense their fear and anxiety and it made him agitated.

 

The person took their cold (it was like  _ ice _ ) hand off his shoulder and he couldn’t help but whine a little, because he didn’t know what was happening, he didn’t know who he was and he was in the middle of some sort of hiking trail.

 

“Oh man, ohhh mannnn…”

 

The person ran a hand through their hair, he stayed on the ground and watched them pace, his eyes following him like a cat––

 

_ “Here kitty kitty kitty…heeere boooy––!” _

 

“Cat.”

 

The person stopped and looked at him.

 

“Cat,” he said again, like it was supposed to mean something, “ _ cat _ .”

 

“…cat?”

 

He knew it was important, or maybe it wasn’t, and it was just all his very tired mind could focus on.

 

“CAT!”

 

“…right, I’m…I’m Matt.”

 

**~**

 

“And you just found him? Lying there, covered in blood and bruises and ejaculate?”

 

“Hey,” Matt said, “you can’t just talk about him like that in front of him!” Matt pointed at him sitting on a hospital cot, he stared cross eyed at his finger.

 

“He isn’t cognitively aware, he’s not concussed, just…a little slow.”

 

He brought up his own index finger and whispered  _ cat _ as he poked Matt gently.

 

“Not helping my case buddy…” Matt sighed and dropped his hand, “And anyway,” Matt looks up at the other guy, Shiro, that was in a doctor’s coat, “he isn’t retarded, I heard him speak before he started coughing, he asked for  _ help _ Shiro.”

 

Shiro just sighed and handed the clipboard to Matt, he was pretty sure Shiro wasn’t allowed to do that, but he remembered that Matt had said that he was a nurse earlier so maybe it was fine.

 

Not being able to speak with these men was getting on his nerves, the only thing that his dumb mouth could say was  _ cat _ and it wouldn’t register anything else.

 

“Anyway, he’s not malnourished, but not very far off either, and…” Shiro’s eyes looked at his recently socked feet, “I don’t like those cigarette burns, or the bruises and the…and the scars. They aren’t infected and seemed to have been at least half-heartedly treated.”

 

“Not to mention that he’s got ‘daddy’s little boy’ cut into his leg.” Matt whispered.

 

“Daddy.”

 

Both men flinched as they made eye contact with him at the same time.

 

“Scars.”

 

Their eyes widened, his too.

 

He looked at them, getting up on wobbly, stick-like legs.

 

“Painful.”

 

**~**

 

Matt scratched his head as he thought of where Cat, as he so lovingly called the mysterious man (boy, it was a boy, he was only  _ fifteen _ .) could stay. His hotel room seemed adequate, (his normal apartment was being cleared of pests, mice outbreak.) so he took him there, in the car ride, he tightened his hands on the wheel, again asking questions that he only got one or two worded, vague and very terrifying answers.

 

“Favourite food?”

 

Cat thought about food, red, it was something red.

 

“Blood.”

 

Silence, only the whirring of the engine and the evening rush noises outside of the car, Matt’s hands were sweaty on the wheel, slipping at all the turns.   
  


 

“O-Oka–!”

 

“Actually red velvet cake.”

 

“Oh thank god.”

 

**~**

 

_“It’s so beautiful isn’t it?”_

 

_ “What is?” _

 

_ “The darkness…” _

 

_ “Honerva––” _

 

_ “I know, Zack.” _

 

_ “…” _

 

**_“I know.”_ **

 

**~**

 

Waking with a jolt is starting to be a little repetitive.

 

He sat up again, white ceiling, white walls, white bedsheets, white man––

 

He screeched.

 

Standing there was a little boy, his skin ashen and face almost skeletal, no clothes and–and he looked…

 

He looked _dead_.

 

Matt ran in, looking worse for wear, his hair was a rats nest and he was in nothing but boxer shorts, a neon green kid’s plastic baseball in one hand and an egg in the other.

 

But he didn’t look at Matt, he kept looking at the boy, the boy looked so cold, his lips were blue, and his hair looked wet and dirty. Like someone found a small pot plant and dumped in over his head, and then gave him a nice scalp massage while at it.

 

The pale boy lifted an arm, there was no hand on the end, only a lump of blood and gore and mangled bone.

 

He smelled like a swamp.

 

_**“Lance.”** _

 

“Cat? You okay? You’re staring at thin air…like an actual cat. Are you sure you’re not a cat in a human’s body? I swear I’m more and more convinced as time goes on.”

 

The boy kept his arm up and gave Matt a sidelong look, smiling a little as he saw him.

 

Matt’s eyes were just pointed towards him–at Lance?

 

The boy faced him again, he noticed the dark red eyes, almost like rubies sinking underwater.

 

_**“Lance.”** _

 

Then he blinked and the boy was gone. And Matt spoke up, finally 

 

“Hey man this isn’t funny; you don’t look like you’re having a panic attack but––!”

 

“Lance.”

 

“…Huh?”

 

“Call me…Lance.”

 

**~**

 

To Lance’s utmost annoyance, Matt kept calling him Cat, he was pretty sure he thought it was funny when he snapped at him.

 

“Dude you’re _b_ _ristling_.”

 

As much as Lance wished it was true, his shoulders were bunched up to his ears and fingers were digging lightly into his thighs as he watched Matt press the final button on the dishwasher. He walked out when he felt his lip curl back and he started jogging when he let out a little hiss.

 

“Shut up.” He said once he was outside of the kitchen, in the safety of his favourite blue blanket from the couch.

 

Matt’s disembodied voice floated over to him: “No.”

 

There was a pause and the beeping from the dishwasher rang, Lance heard him stepping around, making sure that the cabinet contents were all alphabetized or some nerd junk like that. 

 

Then it was silent.

 

Then Matt’s voice came from right beside him.

 

“If I catch you licking your dick I’m gonna fucking _la_ _ugh_.”

 

Lance shrieked and hid away in his blanket and didn’t listen to Matt when he tried to coax him out with a scratching post. How he has one even though he knows Matt doesn’t have a cat he has no idea.

 

**~**

 

**_Just wait, your time will come._ **

 

_ Honerva sighed, it seemed as if that was all the cats would say. _

 

_ Cats are such fascinating creatures, much more intelligent than most humans give them credit for, but she wasn’t like that, she wasn’t a fool like the rest of humanity. _

 

_ A shred of sunlight came from the horizon and Honerva smiled as she heard the telltale crow of one of the newer kittens. _

 

_ Beautiful blue eyes, it looked like a normal Siamese cat but this one was special, the small kitten headbutted her palm, it’s almost a shame she was going to have to put him, and the rest of them up for adoption— _

 

_ **This is the one.** _

 

_ Honerva froze on her couch, her mind working gears furiously to comprehend. She didn’t say anything, she has spent too long plotting for this, years and years of her life until she was frail and a waste of society’s resources. _

 

_She looked down again at the small cat on her lap, surely, one life for the good of everyone was a simple price to pay._

 

**~**

 

Lance opened his eyes slowly.

 

_Honerva_.

 

It was that name again, it sounded unique, not a name that you’d hear often.

 

Lance sighed as he curled up on the couch, a shiver making him regret waking up, he’ll never say it but Matt likes the rooms stupidly cold, and Lance’s body was still recovering, which made him more susceptible to it, which in turn leads to no sleep which then means Lance is cranky in the mornings and sometimes takes out a little on Matt and then he’ll have to suffer even more frigid temperatures because that’s how Matt comforts himself.

 

Wierdo.

 

He sat there, the white noise machine coming from Matt’s room was quiet, but it stood out, he didn’t look at the clock, but it felt like around five in the morning, he knew Matt would wake up any second now.

 

The quiet was a strange thing to Lance, not something to fear but never quite as comforting as you’d think, to some people, peace did not necessarily mean quiet.

 

The quiet gave way to things like thinking, and that’s dangerous for someone like Lance.

 

Thinking things like when will his memory properly recover? Will he ever know who he was before he woke up in the middle of a national park in the middle of the day? Is he going to burden Matt forever with his constant presence in his life? He knows Matt would never throw him out, never /imply/ that he wanted Lance out.

 

Some other questions that had nothing to do with Matt and everything to do with the mysterious woman in his dreams (not as poetic and beautiful as people make it seem he’s learnt), like, who is she? Who is Honerva? Who is Zach? And why did he have a scare when he saw that blue-eyed kitten?

 

(Even Lance couldn’t remember his family or his life, he’s read enough supernatural books to have at least an inkling to where this was heading, and he did not like it one bit.)

 

In the still of the night (or was it morning?) Lance let himself wonder these things, getting no closer to the truth.

 

He heard the white noise machine stop suddenly, and he let himself smile.

 

**~**

 

“Hey Cat!”

 

Lance groaned from his blanket and pillow pile from the couch. He heard more then saw Matt speaking to him from the kitchen, struggling to make toast.

 

(“I have amnesia and even I know how to make toast.”

 

“It’s _complicated_  okay?”

 

“It’s _toast_!”)

 

“Ugh, yeah?”

 

“There’s a new movie, I think it’s called—!”

 

**_Come here._ **

 

Lance froze, whatever Matt was saying was blocked by that voice.

 

“So what do you think?”

 

Lance looked up, he’s not sure how to react but he sure as hell isn't going to tell anybody, so he smiles at Matt.

 

“Sure. Sounds nice.”

 

**~**

 

Every night, Lance strains himself to remember something, anything before lush grass and embarrassing doctor visits.

 

He tried to think about his family, most nights.

 

_ Do they miss me? _

 

And even if they did, would it make things any different? 


	4. Vialdez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance coughed, then groaned, the pain radiated from every nook and cranny of his body, his slowly opened his eyes painfully, for a split second, he panicked.
> 
> It was _dark _.__
> 
> __**Set during the broken wormhole incident._ _

 

“Brace yourself Paladins! I can see the other side of the wormhole!”

 

Allura’s voice was loud as she struggled to stay upright at the command controls, gripping the pillars with a death grip as she had perspiration slide down her eyebrow.

 

The others weren’t doing much better, they had thankfully shaken off the Galra fleet and the Princess was opening a wormhole to evade, but not before the witch had used the ray they had to send a bolt of purple lightning at it, by then Allura had already piloted the ship inside.

 

They were trapped.

 

She heard the airy grunts from Shiro who was brandishing some sort of injury she hadn’t properly seen yet, but there was an alarming amount of red, that the princess had recently learnt from Coran who was tending to him in the most effective and efficient way at the time, that red was bad.

 

Especially in war.

 

Allura turned her attention to the yellow paladin who was, to her surprise holding a steely grip on his control station, steady and strong.

 

Since he didn’t seem as distraught as she thought, her eyes skimmed over Keith, he was more or less the same as Hunk, she turned her attention to Pidge and wasn’t disappointed.

 

The girl was downright terrified, Allura could see even from here that the green paladin then and there thought they were going to die.

 

_Like Hell._

 

(Allura had learnt that from Lance, the boy seemed like the best to educate her on human affairs, so he helps Coran and Allura our when they don’t know how to help the other paladins.)

 

At the thought of the blue paladin, Allura gave a quick cursory glance and was pleased to see he was also steady.

 

Allura gripped the controls even tighter, the ache in her bones slowly ebbing away as he determination grew stronger, she was responsible for their lives.

 

/They would get through this./

 

...

 

It was then Allura saw the other side of the wormhole, it seemed like decaphoebs (years) since they first entered the wormhole even though it couldn’t have been more than a dobash (minute).

 

It took some manoeuvring but Allura felt the ship start to shake even more erratically if possible, and this time she lost her balance and fell from her post, her hands disconnecting from the pillars as the ship hit the outskirts of the exit, finally being spit out harshly from the sky.

 

They rocketed down and Allura quickly pushed herself from the ground, the adrenaline slowly fading making it difficult, but not impossible.

 

/We will survive./

 

~

 

Lance coughed, then groaned, the pain radiated from every nook and cranny of his body, his slowly opened his eyes painfully, for a split second, he panicked.

 

It was /dark/.

 

Then the stars twinkled into his vision and he momentarily relaxed. Slowly looking at them to see if he was somewhere with new constellations.

 

Then he froze again.

 

It was the Big Dipper.

 

It was the /Big Dipper/.

 

The first constellation he had learnt when he was a child. (From a very good cartoon I may add ;3)

 

On /Earth./

 

What the /fuck?/ Is this some really, really painful coincidence?

 

And then, once again, his elevation was squashed by the dread, where were his teammates? Were they okay? Did they feel like their body was being wrenched apart every time they took a breath like he did?

 

The image of his teammates splattering the arid ground motivated him, and he pushed himself to a sitting position, he clenched his teeth and curled his hands into fists, closing his eyes against the burn all over his body and pushing himself to stand, swaying dangerously.

 

He slowly opened his eyes and gasped.

 

He was sitting in the middle of a giant crater, ash and scorch marks glittered the area, almost making the ground as black as the sky. Lance slowly spun in a circle, taking in everything. The sand was warped into forced dunes and there was dirt and debris fluttering everywhere, making it difficult to breathe.

 

As he takes it in, he sees something flash across the horizon and his eyes draw to it, but it was dark and he watched for a few more seconds and he was about to move his gaze away.

 

The bright flash came back and this time Lance was sure it wasn’t some anaemic hallucination, he stumbled forward, stumbling and almost tripping over himself and some debris.

 

Not long after, Lance reaches the edge of the crater, slowly clambering up its unsteady surface, catching his breath every time he almost teetered over. Suddenly a hand held his waist, and Lance felt another wave of fire run through his bones as he slightly flailed.

 

He turned his head and saw Hunk standing there, his eyes were wide and his other arm was clutched to his side, there were tear tracks that cut through the dirt on his face, he looked like he had seen a ghost.

 

No...like he was /looking/ at a ghost.

 

“Lance...”

 

His voice is barely a whisper and just a tiny movement in his lips so Lance draws closer, affectionately patting the hand holding onto his armour and giving Hunk a sweet smile, ignoring the ache.

 

“Hey buddy.”

 

Hunk doesn’t say anything and he just stares.

 

He stares long enough to make Lance shift and favour each of his legs as they hurt respectively.

 

“I-!” Hunk’s voice catches and the damn in his eyes finally breaks as he hugs Lance with all his might, constricting his lungs and he starts to choke.

 

“B-Buddy! I-I c-can’t—!”

 

Suddenly his airway was clear and Lance took in shuddering breaths and steadied himself on Hunk who was still mildly clinging to him. His lips were moving and Lance only heard because of how close they were.

 

“—thought you were dead, y-you were just lying there—you weren’t—I thought—you-!”

 

“Hey hey /hey/...it’s okay...” Lance slowly held Hunk’s hand and moved it to his chest, taking deeper breaths to clear the ash as well as make Hunk feel better.

 

Lance didn’t say anything and just let Hunk ground himself on the charred sand.

 

“I thought you were dead.”

 

Lance didn’t say anything, just held his friend’s hand tighter as he waited, the dust motes were starting to float down and the air was clearing. The horizon was starting to lighten a pale grey, giving more light to their surroundings.

 

The light flashed again.

 

“We need to find the others.”

 

Lance felt Hunk nodding absently and then surrendered his grip only to keep a tight hold on his hand as his other one went back to his side.

 

They started walking like that, it was slow and uneventful, which Lance was eternally grateful for, the last thing they needed was more trouble.

 

That was when they heard a rumble and Lance’s tired muscles tensed painfully.

 

“Sorry.” Hunk looked sheepish and he rubbed his belly.

 

“Hunk what the hell.”

 

~

 

After a half hour of wandering towards the horizon, the sun was high and it had both Lance and Hunk panting and progressively slowing down their constant march.

 

It was too much, Lance could feel the edges of his vision blur as he starts to lose control of himself he freezes in place, ignoring Hunk who looked at him in concern.

 

/Stop./

 

Lance could feel it, his ears were blocked from the blood rushing in his head, newfound energy and adrenaline courses through him as he kept trying to take deep breaths. Hunk’s questions were fading in and out as if he was covering his ears.

 

But they weren’t his hands.

 

They were /his/.

 

/No no no./

 

/Not right now./

 

It didn’t matter how much he begged, it was a losing battle.

 

The boy that ruined his life.

 

The man that saved it.

 

He falls back onto the ground, his last thought drifting along the back of his eyelids.

 

/Not Hunk, please not Hunk./

 

~

 

//Finally\\\

 

Vialdez opens his eyes and is greeted by the white sky and a slight breeze brushing his hair, the grit of the sand was scratchy against his armour.

 

He looked around, slowly lifting his neck and his shoulder, keeping himself up with his elbows, he sees someone had put a light yellow blanket on top of him.

 

Vialdez’s eyes widen.

 

That was Hunk’s.

 

The Hunk that had hurt Lance all those years ago, and he never apologised. (But even if he did he still would’ve killed him because hurting Lance in /any/ way was unacceptable, his family’s demise was a mere inkling to his prowess)

 

He decided to play it safe for now, he’s never had control of the body when Hunk was around, so he wanted to take his time, he knows Hunk inside and out.

 

//Or I could leave him in the desert, take all the necessities in his suit and leave him to rot.\\\

 

/Don’t you fucking touch a hair on his head or I swear I’ll kill us./

 

Okay so maybe not, Vialdez and Lance both know he’s telling the truth.

 

//He hurt you. You started to cut back then because of him\\\

 

Vialdez and Lance would both deny having a conversation with their ‘neighbours’ respectively, it was weird, Vialdez speculates, typically split personality disorders were more or less like being drunk. It brings out what you keep internalised. This though, their situation was special, Vialdez wasn’t some odd sadistic part of Lance, he was his own person.

 

Not a conscience, but someone with feelings and the same capabilities and opinions and decisions, he was his own soul, and that made his family scared. Think their Lance was possessed. This nameless being that lived alongside Lance.

 

That’s why Vialdez killed them.

 

They shunned Lance.

 

They were the reason for the cuts on their thighs and Lance’s heart.

 

“Buddy?”

 

/Curses/, Vialdez quickly flits his eyes to Hunk from that spot on the ground he’d been staring at.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Vialdez could feel himself and Lance watching cringe, his tone was painfully flat and cold.

 

/This is/ not /going to be fun./

 

//Then give me back control\\\

 

/No, I’m keeping you safe/

 

//Don’t you touch a fucking hair on his head, you know I’m not joking about killing us//

 

Vialdez sighed, which made Hunk’s fretting even worse.

 

“Sorry dude, my head is a little scrambled.”

 

Thankfully his voice was a bit more cheery, albeit slightly forced, but if Hunk could tell, he didn’t say anything and reluctantly kept walking.

 

/I promise I won’t hurt him, anything for you Lance/

 

He got no reply, he didn’t expect one.

 

He just kept trudging along, playing ‘I spy’ with Hunk, they didn’t have much inspiration other than: desert, sky, sand, dust, shrapnel. But it was still fun, and Vialdez would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy Hunk’s company.

 

//See, he’s an amazing guy.\\\

 

/I see the appeal/

 

//Dude, ‘appeal’, what the fuck is wrong with you?\\\

 

/Everything/

 

//Haha, I know\\\

 

Vialdez would also be lying if he said he didn’t want to keep Lance in the cocoon of his arms forever, and being his everything and Hunk was an obstacle for that dream.

 

He decided to sleep on Hunk’s status as a corpse or his ally in the ‘Protect Lancey Lance’ squad with the Blue Lion.

 

~

 

“Hey! I think I See something!”

 

Hunk’s voice broke the concentration from Vialdez’s face (from not face planting in extreme exhaustion) and he shakily breathes out and covers his eyes from the sun as he peers into the distance.

 

The heat was blurring the edges of his vision and in the shaky expanse he could just make out some small dark grey structure in the distance, Vialdez couldn’t tell how far it was, the flat desert wasn’t one he favoured.

 

//I don’t feel good\\\

 

The sound of Lance’s voice put Vialdez on edge and he fruitlessly scanned around them as Hunk started to ramble in questionable sanity.

 

“Oh god, finally it’s been so long—I—god Lance maybe they have food—do you think thy have food?—it doesn’t matter what—I’ll eat anything—except you dude—I mean I thought about it for a second—but then I was like—no way then who would I play I spy with?—and then I thought that was a really shitty reason—and then I felt bad because your my friend—and you’re worth more than just ‘I Spy’ Lance—you know I love you and all—god I’m hungry.”

 

/Yeah...staying clear for now./

 

Vialdez grabbed his bearings and started to walking.

 

He had to backtrack a few metres back to Hunk because he was just standing here talking to thin air and Lance was saying things to him that he refuses to repeat to anyone and giving threats about what he’d do if he left him behind, Vialdez refuses to say he grumbled and pouted like a baby.

 

(He totally did though, Lance vouches for that)

 

//Do...Do you feel like we’re being watched?\\\

 

/Yes, I don’t see anything though, it feels like—/

 

//Like there is someone is filming us or something, yeah I know\\\

 

Vialdez looks at the sky, it was starting to darken, the brighter stars were showing in the pink-purple light, but...the angle was all wrong.

 

Suddenly, as if a bucket of ice water was poured onto his back, Vialdez froze.

 

It was one of his memories.

 

He concentrated on that small sliver of familiarity, Lance didn’t know this but, Vialdez has been having moments like these, like he has been having flashes of a different sort of world.

 

Like he wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

 

There were also moments where he felt the skin he wore wasn’t his. It never was really.

 

//Hey—\\\

 

Vialdez pushed on Lance harder, keeping up a mental wall, it was a miracle he was still standing.

 

/Black sky—

 

Screaming—

 

Blood—so much blood—

 

All over his hands—

 

It felt—

It felt so—

 

//It felt so good//.


	5. West Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance lived in a quaint little town called Maiden, it was in the middle of nowhere and small enough that there was nothing more than a few houses and apartment complexes and a shopping center, there were a few farms of cattle and corn and whatever, but that’s about it.
> 
> On a terrible night, Lance leaves his abode, runs into the orange and blue horizon.
> 
> When he gets his phone out to check up on his sweet little town, he hears the radio.
> 
> _**“Hurricane Mary has just passed through Maiden, a small town, more of a village really, its going up the West side coast of America, heading towards the big cities, we currently have no report of any survivors–!”** _
> 
> Suddenly the line fizzled out and Lance couldn’t breathe.
> 
> He was in the West side.
> 
> A distant rumble accentuates his thoughts.
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy~

_“Lance McClain,”_  he read aloud,  _“we regret to inform you—!”_

Lance put his hand on his mouth, shutting himself off from the undignified _sob_  that wanted to rip out of his throat.

His eyes burned, his hands tremored, his heart kept beating faster and faster, up to dangerous speeds.

He needed to _go_.

Anywhere but here.

That was the third rejection letter he got this semester.

If this kept going on through his last year of high school, then…

Lance will be forced to give up his dreams of having his own gallery filled with is own art, he wont be able to map out any new constellations, he can’t prove all those people who had a bit too much to say about his ethnicity and sexuality.

Lance was doomed.

That’s why Lance just ripped the paper into pieces, nice font and well spaces lines in a flurry of some twisted imitation of snow, fluttering around his one-bedroom apartment, getting under the couch, under the television stand, under his coffee table.

But Lance didn’t _care_.

He just wanted to _go_.

**~**

 

Lance found himself on his beloved blue motorbike, whizzing through the desert roads and dark green signs, he didn’t want to stop, he just kept revving the engine pushing _harder_ , reaching breakneck speeds on the lonely roads.

The wind in his hair was freeing, the windburn on his chin and cheeks sharp and grounding.

(Oh yeah, did he mention he wasn’t wearing a helmet?)

(Lance was more or less probably going to die tonight, and he was strangely okay with that)

He couldn’t even open his mouth to whoop in joy, the wind was _mashing_  him onto his bike, leaning down, mouth next to the handles, grinning like a maniac.

Then when Lance saw the sparkle of moonlight reflecting on water on the horizon, he starts to slow down, his maniacal grin toning down to an anticipatory one, moving steadily towards the ocean, his ‘oasis’ of the desert.

**~**

When Lance drifted to a halt roughly fifteen meters from the shoreline, his abrupt stop kicking sand around him in a gust, choking him and burning his eyes.

But he didn’t care, Lance just ran to the ocean, stripping on the way to his underwear, ignoring how it was going to be such a pain to get rid of all the sand, ignoring how he’ll have to face reality eventually, ignoring the constant failure.

Ignoring going back completely.

Lance was _here_  on the beach right _now_.

Anything else didn’t matter as he quickly kicked sand into the water, watching how it clouded, he stuck his feet until they were up to his ankles and smiled.

Truly, actually, for the first time in a while, _smiled_.

And as he heard the rumble of thunder, his heart soared with the clouds, jumped with the wind, danced with the water.

He _was_  the storm.

Lance was, in one word, if he used only _one_ word to describe the euphoria of being surrounded by churning water, were his ears only registered what was in his little bubble, to describe how he was _happy_  for once.

Lance was free.

**~**

It was when Lance was lying on his back, gazing at the lilac sky, that he realized its been hours, the sky that was fading into night had become dawn, and the birds were starting to circle the sky lazily in a background of purple and pale yellow.

The sky looked like a giant flower.

It was beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> BAZINGA


End file.
